


Stony one-shots??

by XansyIsMoi



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Emotional Comfort, Howard’s A+ Parenting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mostly Tony-Centric, Nightmares, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Steve is a Nice Guy, Tony Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, maybe smut, soft fluff, very fluff, very gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2019-11-09 02:22:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17993030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XansyIsMoi/pseuds/XansyIsMoi
Summary: Just some stuff for my bois, Steve and TonyCould be sad, could be happyBut v fluffy and v soft





	1. The One Where Clint Doesn’t Know English

Bruce sighed heavily, "Clint, there _is_ a word for the day after tomorrow. It's called _overmorrow_."

Clint blatantly ignored the scientist, still ranting. "Seriously, who comes up with a word for throwing someone out the window?" After a small pause, he shoots a smirk at Tony, who'd just walked in, presumably to get more coffee. "Hey Stark, didn't Loki defenestrate you when he was doing his whole 'I'm gonna conquer you all' thing in New York?"

Tony simply glares at Clint as he passed, beelining for the coffee machine. "I'm surprised you even know such a word, Barton. Your mind is diminutive."

As Clint blinked, Bruce murmured, "It means small." Before Clint could protest, Bruce continued. "There's also a word for the day before yesterday, it's _ereyesterday_. English has many words for specific things-"

"Like cornobble, or yerd- which I'm seriously considering, Barton, if you finish off the pot _again_ -"

"What the fuck is a _cornobble_ -"

"It means I'll beat you with a fucking _fish_ , you vagabond-"

"Who's beating who with a fish?" Steve had walked in, still flushed and sweat-slick from his morning run.

Tony turned to face him before shooting Clint a smug grin, "I hate to cut this short, Birdbrain, but I'm afraid I must talk to our very lingible Captain- privately."

As Tony led Steve out of the kitchen, coffee forgotten, Clint turned to Bruce. "Lingible?"

Bruce grimaced, "Meant to be licked."

Clint choked on his coffee.

[What prompted me to write this](https://imgur.com/gallery/cWlNdTP)


	2. The One Where Tony Goes On A Bender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angsty, and it kinda gets better?? Not as happy an ending as I would have liked, but it didn’t get worse so 0-0  
> Enjoy!

It was like walking into a wall. That was how hard the stench of alcohol hit Steve when he stepped into Tony’s workshop. His nose wrinkled as he ventured deeper, picking his way through an unhealthy amount of empty bottles on the floor. He could hear a voice from the back of the shop, though he couldn’t tell if it was Tony’s.

 

“Tony?”

 

When there was no response, Steve’s brow furrowed. Spotting what Steve had previously thought was a supply closet, he stepped towards it in hopes his boyfriend was in there, as he was nowhere else in sight. Poking his head inside, he realized that not only was Tony inside, but it was not a supply closet. Rather, it was a storage closet, the walls lined in boxes labeled “Howard S” and “Maria S” and “MIT” and simply “Old Things,” all written in Tony’s neat, tall writing. Steve’s attention snapped back to Tony, who was drinking scotch straight from the bottle in front of a projector, oblivious to Steve’s presence. The projector was running a film of a man standing in front of a model city. With a jolt, the Captain recognized the man as Howard, Tony’s father.

 

_“Tony.”_

 

At the sound of Howard’s voice, Tony glared at the projection, swaying slightly on his feet. Steve took a moment to make sure Tony wasn’t going to collapse, and his attention returned to Howard once he spoke again.

 

_“You’re too young to understand this right now, so I thought I would put it on film for you.”_ Howard swept an arm towards the city model, glancing back at the camera before bringing his arm back to his side, leaning against said model. “ _I built this for you, and someday you’ll realize that it represents a whole lot more than just people’s inventions. It represents my life’s work.”_

 

Tony was standing stock still, his face white with rage, clutching the bottle in his hands so hard that Steve thought it would break. He didn’t understand this reaction. He thought that seeing Howard would’ve made Tony happier- maybe sad, but not angry. He couldn’t fathom why Tony would be angry at a film of his father. Howard continued.

 

_“This is the key to the future. I am limited by the technology of my time, but one day, you’ll figure this out. And when you do, you will change the world.”_

 

Now, Tony’s hands were trembling, his shoulders quivering. From where he stood, Steve could see tears slipping down his face.

 

_“What is and always will be...”_

 

Tony was full on shaking now, what was left of the liquid in his bottle was sloshing against the glass walls holding it in.

 

_“... my greatest creation...”  
_

 

Tony’s voice was soft, “Don’t.”

 

_“... is you.”_

 

“BULLSHIT!” Tony launched the bottle at the projection as it cut off, the glass exploding against the wall. Steve flinched back as glass went flying, but Tony kept going. He threw anything he could reach at the wall, where Howard once stood.

 

“BULL-FUCKING-SHIT, YOU FUCKING-“ Another bottle went flying, shattering into a million pieces.

 

“LIAR- YOU TWO-FACED, DRUNKEN ASSHOLE-“ By now, Tony was screaming at where the projection once was, fists clenched, body tense. Steve blinked in shock, wishing he could reach out to Tony, but he was scared to.

 

“YOU FUCKING- YOU FUCKING LIAR, IT WAS HIM, IT WAS ALWAYS- ALWAYS HIM, AND YOU KNOW IT! IT WAS NEVER- WAS NEVER-“ Tony paces before shoving over a tower of boxes labeled “Howard S,” then another before whipping back around to the wall where Howard had been, seeming to deflate.

 

“It was never me. I-I tried, and I tried, and- and it was never me.” Sinking to the floor, Tony hiccups softly. “You were the worst- the worst father ever- I- I hated you. I hate you. Wherever the fuck you are- I hope- I hope you know that Mom and I- we fucking hated you- Not that she was any better. She- she never stopped-“ He takes a shaky breath, “She never stopped you. But you- you deserved it. You deserved to die.”

 

Steve inhales sharply, freezing when Tony whipped around to face him. Tony struggled up onto his feet, swaying dangerously. He stumbled forward, and Steve stepped forward to catch him, holding the smaller man tight against his chest. Tony’s voice was muffled against Steve’s pec.

 

“Why’re you ‘ere?”

 

Steve buries his nose in Tony’s hair, the only part of him that didn’t smell like whiskey or scotch- or any sort of alcohol.

 

“I came down to check on you. You’ve been down here for two days, is- is this what you’ve been doing this entire time?” At Tony’s silence, Steve scooped him up easily, carrying him away from the storage room, away from the memories of Howard, from the shattered glass that so painfully signified Tony’s broken past. He carried him to the elevator, up to their floor, into their bedroom, into their bathroom, sitting him down on the counter. Steve moved to start a bath before returning to Tony, looking him over for any glass stuck anywhere. Satisfied with his examination, he begins undressing Tony as the tub filled up. Anthony remained silent the entire time, slipping off the counter to undress his lower half as Steve began undressing himself, pulling off his shirt and dropping it to the floor in one fluid movement. Once both men were naked, Steve led Tony to the bathtub, reaching over to turn off the water before helping the brunet into the water, stepping in shortly after.

 

He settled himself behind Tony, pulling the other against him, between his legs so that Tony’s back was pressed against Steve’s chest. Pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s ear, Steve begins washing Tony, using slow, gentle strokes across his body. They were silent for long minutes, the only sounds came from Steve’s arm moving through the water and the soft puffs of breath through Tony’s nose. The silence didn’t last, however, because as soon as Steve finished washing Tony, he spoke.

 

“Did- did Howard-“

 

“Please don’t.”

 

“I have to know.”

 

“You really don’t.”

 

“Tony-“ Steve let out a soft sigh, “please?”

 

Tony was silent for so long that Steve began to move, almost had given up on an answer before Tony spoke.

 

“Yes.”

 

Settling once more, Steve pulls Tony closer.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Howard- he- he ignored you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Did he- did he hit you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Steve paused, biting his lip before speaking- whispering,

 

“Am I ‘him?’”

 

Steve got his answer from Tony’s silence.

 

With a soft sigh, Steve shifts so he can stand, stepping out to grab a towel and wrap it around his waist, turning back to help Tony out of the tub. He handed the shorter man a towel before draining the water in the bath. Turning back to Tony, he jumps slightly. Tony stared up at Steve, gaze unwavering, determined. 

 

“I love you.”

 

Steve blinks, confused. “I love you too, Tony.”

 

Tony shakes his head, sending water droplets everywhere. “No- I mean, I- I don’t hate you. I love you.”

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

“I-“ Tony lets out a huff of breath, “Even if you’re ‘him,’ I don’t hate you- you’re not him. I- you’re not the one Howard was always talking about. You’re- you’re different. I hated that guy, not you.” Tony glances away, fidgeting.

 

Steve bites his lip, “You’re not him, either, you know.” When Tony glanced up, Steve continued. “Howard. You’re not him.”

 

Tony’s expression twisted into something unreadable, but Steve knew that those were the words Tony has needed to hear his entire life. Deciding not to push it further, Steve wrapped a warm arm around Tony’s shoulders, leading him into the bedroom and to the bed, stopping only to grab clothes for both of them. Handing a pair of sweatpants to Tony, Steve changed silently, folding his and Tony’s towels and putting them back in the bathroom before rejoining Tony, who was now under the covers. Sliding under the covers, Steve reaches out and pulls Tony close, curling around the smaller man protectively, as if he could shield him from the world. Tony sighed quietly, pressing against Steve.

 

“Get some sleep, Tony.”

 

Tony simply nodded against Steve’s chest as JARVIS shut off the lights. As soon as Tony’s breath evened out, Steve closed his eyes. The last thing he remembered before slipping into a dreamless sleep was cursing Howard to the deepest depths of Hell.


	3. He Lets Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to Dying In LA by P!atd and thought "Hey, this is sad!"  
> So I wrote this :)
> 
> If you have any prompts, feel free to drop them in the comments! I'm happy to write whatever you suggest!
> 
> Enjoy!

He stood in front of the mirror, silent, the picture of grief. Black tie in place, suit jacket buttoned, he was finally ready. But he would never be ready, not really, not for this.  
Pepper opened the door quietly, peering in at the man in front of the mirror.  
  
"Are you ready?"  
  
He regards her silently, giving a small nod before following her out.  
  
Outside, only friends are present. He smiles a little. This was heartwarming, to see so many loving people around. It made him feel better, made him happy for the fallen.  
  
For the one he fought with so much, to be loved just as much as he loved others.  
  
He wished he'd said more, been more open, more loving. But he likes to think that the other knew, deep down.  
  
He moves with Pepper, who's holding a bouquet in her arms, looking at him worriedly. He simply smiles faintly at her, taking the bouquet gently when they reach the lake they were holding the event at.  
  
The funeral.  
  
Looking down at the flowers, he feels tears spill over at what's settled in them.

  
  
_Proof that Tony Stark has a heart._

  
  
He looks up again, across the lake, shoulders trembling. He can feel his friends at his back, grounding him for what he knows he has to do.  
  
Taking a deep breath, he crouches at the end of the dock, gently placing the bouquet in the water.  
  
He lets it go.  
  
He lets him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I purposefully wrote this so that you didn't know who was dead and who was alive  
> It could be Tony is alive and Steve is dead, and Tony is giving his heart away to the one man he felt deserved his real heart  
> Or it could be Steve, letting Tony go, one last time


	4. The One Where Steve Says 'Language'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony says a no-no word in front of Peter, and misinterprets when Steve chides him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't posted in awhile, stuff's been going on. It should be noted, however, that I never planned to have a set schedule- but I didn't mean to wait this long. Please give prompts or suggestions or corrections, everything is welcome.  
> Enjoy!

Tony hums into his coffee as little Peter rambles about his day, hands flailing to better explain his words. Steve watches amusedly, draping an arm on the back of Tony’s chair as their son enacted playing on the swings during recess. Smiling contentedly when Tony shifts closer into Steve’s side, Steve zones out, letting Peter’s voice fade into white noise- that is, until Tony stiffens by his side. Snapping back to ~~reality~~ the present, Steve tunes back into the conversation right as Tony snaps, “Who the fuck?” Steve frowns down at his boyfriend, Tony should know better than to curse in front of their very impressionable 9 year old son.

“Language,”

 

Tony glowers at Steve, though it’s much more playful than that of his previous glare, “Sorry, whom the fuck?”

 

Peter interjects, brown eyes wide with innocence, “What’s fuck?”

 

When Tony smiles sheepishly at Steve, said blond sighs.

 

“Tony…”


End file.
